Damn Implications
by WeAreTomorrow
Summary: RE-POSTING. The Glee Project: Sexuality. That word and all it's damn implications. "I'm a liar and I don't miss you at all." Eventually Cameron/Damian. Dameron Slash.
1. Chapter 1

*****waves* Lot's of new stuff and I'd love to know what you think. Better or miss the old version?

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><p><strong>Damn Implications<strong>

(Because sometimes people tell us that we can't.)

(They're wrong.)

* * *

><p>Sexuality.<p>

Cameron can't tear his eyes away from the word. The others burst into conversation around him, cheering and joking. Distantly, Hannah's words come to him:

"I'm like a koala bear. I can't be sexy!"

Someone touches his arm and Cameron turns, forcing a smile onto his face.

Damian is looking at him with big concerned eyes. He nods his head toward their homework assignment. Toward that word.

"You al' right?"

Cameron's smile slips a couple notches, nothing that most people would notice. Damian does, pausing to squeeze his arm reassuringly. Both of them are hyper-aware of the cameras circling them.

Like sharks.

They smell weakness.

Damian lets his hand slip slowly from Cameron's shoulder, maybe a little slower than necessary. But it helps. A blue to brown glance and they agree silently to talk later.

Unbidden, Cameron's eyes are drawn back to the word.

And all it's damn implications.

* * *

><p>The ceiling has a tiny crack.<p>

It's barley noticeable; Cameron's been staring open-eyed for almost an hour, strumming aimlessly, before he noticed it.

And now he can't un-notice it.

It's not fair, that he doesn't have a choice.

That some things can't be taken back when he never wanted to deal with them in the first place. That even when he closes his eyes and tries to go back to smooth, unblemished perfection all he can think about are the damn _cracks_.

* * *

><p>Lindsay and Damian.<p>

There's something about the thought of the two that doesn't feel right. Like walking across coals, the heat melting his sneakers. The more time passes, the more he tries to forget about it, the harder it gets.

Cameron sighs, stepping out of the shower.

It's the one place he feels he has real privacy. Like he can stop pretending.

He sighs, unwilling to let thoughts of Lindsay—_the golden girl, the Broadway voice, the next Lea Mitchell, so pretty and so damn interesting_—ruin the moment but it's too late. He clears a window in the steamed up mirror.

It's an ugly feeling; resentment.

She is living the life that Cameron watches Glee so desperately to experience. Not even for the music, but the people. For people like him, like Tina, shy little background Tina he's thinking of.

He loves Tina.

But mostly, he watches for people that aren't like his parents. Aren't like his brother and his girlfriend and his priest and his Church choir and everybody else in his little Texan town, everybody he knows.

So, yeah, Lindsay with her Broadway experience and her two gay dads and self-acceptance and confidence so bright in every one of her white smiles, well.

Maybe he's a little bit jealous, justifiably.

_What if she kisses Damian?_

The idea makes him feel sick.

_What if he kisses her back?_

He feels worse. He avoids his reflection's eyes, dressing himself quickly.

And if he's jealous for the wrong reasons, the ones that make no sense then, who needs to know? Jealous is jealous is whatever, because all it ever does is swirl in the pit of his stomach and make him dizzy anyway.

What he needs to do is call his family. Call his girlfriend and remind himself who he's supposed to be. What direction is up and which is wrong, no matter the good intentions.

It's just… sometimes, when she's not around. When none of them are around, he forgets.

* * *

><p>"Cameron?"<p>

A soft whisper, voice husky with sleep.

A shiver runs up Cameron's skin. His fingers hover over his chest where his cross usually hangs. Lately, he's been taking it off to go to sleep.

Cameron turns his head, meeting blue eyes.

"Damian."

It comes out rougher then he intends. A breath catches, not his. Cameron's licks his dry lips, suddenly nervous, and he has a sudden urge to put his cross back on.

He feels off-balance, too light.

"Promise me you won't go home?"

A wavering pause.

Cameron tries not to stare but can't help it, room washed in midnight and making the edges less harsh, making the rules more breakable. The alarm clock light illuminates the outline of Damian's face. The smooth skin. The blue eyes.

Half formed thoughts drift through his exhausted mind.

If he reached out and touched his cross would the metal burn him? If he reached out and trailed a finger along the swell of Damian's lips would that burn him too?

"Cameron?"

Again, but more breathless. A little more desperate.

Cameron shivers again and doesn't think about it. He's good at that. God knows he's had enough practice.

He wets his lips again and asks, "Do you like Lindsay?"

If Cameron were a better person he'd say that he didn't mean the question to slip out like that. Like his promise depends on the answer. Like there is a right answer.

Tension like a rubber band. Another half thought:

What will happen when it snaps? When, not if.

"No."

"I promise."

Damian's lips curve into a smile. Again, there is an urge to reach out and touch. If Cameron were a better person he'd say that it was only curiosity.

A final half thought before he slips over the edge of his exhaustion:

He should really call his girlfriend back.

* * *

><p>"Hey."<p>

Cameron looks up from his coffee, and can't stop a laugh.

"Hey, Damian."

The other boy is still in his pajamas, a worn top and sweats, lounging against the kitchen counter. Damian's eyes are gritty with sleep and his lopsided smile is several degrees more crooked than usual.

His hair is a mess, sticking up on one side and flat on the other.

Unable to resist, Cameron reaches out and tries to smooth down the worst of it.

That's what best friends do for each other, right?

And sometimes it's perfectly normal to have trouble swallowing or breathing because of the distracting way said best friend's blue eyes flutter shut, mouth parting slightly with a soft intake of air.

It's perfectly normal to linger until a door slams and startles you into stepping away, realizing suddenly that you're somehow, unintentionally, brushing bare feet together again.

It's perfectly normal.

"So," Damian asks, his tone strange, looking away, "Uh, yeah."

There's a moment of discomfort; they meet each others eyes and both look away, too quickly. Cameron takes a sip of coffee, just to do something and burns his tongue. He suppresses a wince.

"You nervous, Cam?"

Damian tugs at the bottom of his shirt, pulling it down to reveal the shadowed arch of a collarbone.

Cameron's tongue is numb in his mouth, fumbling to form words, "Uh, I- yeah it's…"

He stops, looks away and focuses.

"No," he says with a confident smile. But then, because it's Damian: "Terrified."

* * *

><p>"Is that lip-gloss?"<p>

Ouch. Blue eyes meet brown eyes.

Cameron looks away before Damian can. Lindsay looks sideways at Damian through her lashes, flirtatious.

Bitch.

He surprises himself at the viciousness. But not as much as he should.

Sometimes he feels like they're flipsides of a coin, him and Lindsay. Except he's landed face down this time and yeah, okay, it _hurts_.

Body turned away, hunched inward against gravity and all the other laws of physics, of attraction, Cameron glances over his shoulder, unable to stop himself. Damian tries to meet his eyes, slanted away from Lindsay as she talks to him about something.

She compliments him.

Touches his arm. His cheek. Wipes the lip-gloss from his mouth much slower then necessary. Much slower.

Cameron touches his cross and wonders about jealous equaling jealous and whatever.

It's honestly not that important.

It's because of Lindsay. Because he doesn't like her, because she has everything he wants and Damian, well, he's all someone could ask for in a best friend. Loyal and kind and blue-eyed in a way that, well.

In the way that best friends are sometimes.

Hannah jumps up and pulls him along, nervous words tripping over each other. Cameron's stomach squirms uncomfortably at the thought of putting his hands on her, of pulling her close.

At the door he sends a last backward glance to Damian. Wrong move.

Huge blue eyes filled with guilt and hurt, feeling like a punch to the gut. Damian shouldn't ever look so lost, so unsure. And if he were a better person maybe he could honesty say that he wished the guilt wasn't there either.

It's Lindsay's fault, okay? Okay.

* * *

><p>"How do you feel about kissing her?"<p>

Cameron coughs, choking on a surprised laugh. Because Hannah is a great person, really, when she's not gazing after Damian with that glassy far-away look.

It's just a reaction now, the jealously, because of Lindsay.

He runs through the options in his head, trying to smile through the deer-in-headlights reaction. He wonders about the probability of him getting kicked out if he says _no_. Because, it's phrased like a suggestion.

But it's not.

Unwanted, last night comes back to him. His name on Damian's lips, the curve of them. The small, relieved smile.

_Do you like Lindsay?_

And even more unwanted: Damian's smile smeared with lip-gloss.

Cameron thinks spitefully, _two can play the game_, and says aloud:

"No."

* * *

><p>Bottom three.<p>

He realizes with the split-second stinging certainty of a paper cut that he's doesn't want to leave. There are people depending on him, his mother bright and laughing, hugging him tightly outside the airport.

He feels guilt bitter on his tongue.

He's being selfish, petty. Running away, letting his family down and for what?

"Cameron."

He shivers.

Cameron's eyes are closed, his back to the door. His face is slick with tears but he's too drained to pretend. He feels terribly overwhelmed, all filled up with guilt and fear and failure.

His mother, yeah, he knows the look she'll give him when he loses. It wasn't just his dream, you know?

How dare he mess that up? He swore he would be better this time, about the selfishness.

A hand pressed against his shaking back, heat seeping through his clothes.

Cameron doesn't know whether to tense or relax. He sighs and turns around, eyes still closed. The hands are now pressed against his chest, curling.

Damian fists his shirt; too tightly, the nails digging in.

Cameron is pushed back and hits the wall, not hard enough to hurt but enough that he opens his eyes, mostly from instinct. Sometimes he can duck the coming punch, you know?

He closes them again; what he sees is more dangerous then any angry fist or leering grin.

Damian is too close.

Much too close to be resistible right now, with his emotions scraped raw and open for everyone to see, regrets bubbling under the surface, hot and sticky. He wants to run his hand through messy brown hair, excuseless, reckless, at least this once.

Damian, whose blue eyes are framed in eyelashes and red-rimmed.

"You promised me, Cameron."

He's not allowed to sound so broken. So betrayed.

"So did you."

Cameron opens his eyes again, needing Damian to understand. Because he thought that the other boy understood but maybe it's all in his head, maybe he's being selfish again and imagining promises where there is nothing more then kindness.

The thought burns as he swallows it.

There are hurt, angry words at the tip of Damian's pink tongue, the one that Cameron can't keep his eyes off of when Damian licks his lips.

Words like _I didn't break mine_ and _she surprised me_ and most of all _why are you leaving_?

"I," Cameron says, not breathing, " I can't."

There are hands, burning hands, twisted into his shirt and Damian licks his lips again, eyes determined and scared and leaning in.

And Damian, god—

"_Damian_."

Faces that are inches apart. Seconds apart.

Somewhere, distantly, in another universe maybe where Cameron has left his girlfriend and rules and his lies, a door opens.

"Cameron?"

And the two worlds collide.

Or rather, Cameron's fantasy breaks apart on the cold hard floor that is reality.

Back to earth.

Damian steps away from Cameron, eyes downward, movements awkward. Cameron has the desperate impulse to touch his face, make Damian look at him with those blue eyes, the ones that always give him the answers, so trusting.

He has the desperate need to know if they're filled with disappointment or guilt.

Or regret.

Someone clears his throat and Cameron remembers that they are no longer the only people in the world. He drags his gaze from Damian reluctantly, to the intruder.

His stomach drops, twists.

Ryan Murphy is watching them with sharp, intuitive eyes. If Cameron were completely honest, something a good Christian should always be, he would admit that Ryan scares him. Sees right through him, thin lips pressed together into a smirk.

Damian's voice is quiet, but doesn't waver.

"Excuse me, sir, but Cameron has changed his mind. He's not ready to leave yet."

There's a beat where they both turn toward him, waiting for him to answer.

"Well," Ryan asks, hungery and sharp, "Do you want to stay?"

Cameron tries to find his voice, tries to keep his hands to himself and his thoughts even closer. What his family doesn't know can't hurt him, can't disgust them, can't end badly like it's going to, like it has to.

He thinks he might have swallowed his tongue.

Under the heat of Damian's stare and the cold contemplation of Ryan's, Cameron manages a weak nod.

"Yeah," Cameron manages, "Yes, sir."

* * *

><p>Not called back: <em>Alex<em>


	2. Chapter 2

**Damn Implications**

…_we are different colors, let's see if you look good on me…_

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><p>"But I see your true colors."<p>

Damian isn't singing to him. He isn't.

Not that Cameron would know anyway, because he's not watching Damian, circling around him with a careful distance, the way he was taught at school, maintaining a perfect radius. He hasn't even been talking to Damian since, well.

And Damian has no reason to sing to him, not something like this.

He hasn't been avoiding Damian. He sleeps just fine at night. He and his girlfriend talk almost every other day. Because he misses her.

This week's challenge: _Believability_

Cameron turns his back on the word, certain for once. Damn it all and the implications.

He's an excellent liar. Especially to himself.

It's late, but the three of them are too nervous to go to sleep, tomorrow already looming. Instead, they sit on their respective beds and guess at who the guest judge will be. It's mostly Samuel and him talking.

Damian listens, picking at his bed covers where Cameron would usually be sitting, looking lost.

So far, he's been not thinking about it pretty well.

Samuel eventually turns to Damian and asks, "And you? What'd you think?"

Damian answers without hesitating, without looking up.

"Kurt."

Without meaning to, the word slips from his mouth: "Why?"

Damian looks at him.

It's already dark, long shadowy fingers stretching up along the walls and across the wrinkled bed sheets but the anger is bright and burning, making his eyes more gray than blue. Cameron doesn't flinch back. He doesn't.

"Because Kurt is honest and open and wears his heart on his sleeve," Damian doesn't break eye contact and he can't remember how, "When you watch what he's going through you believe it."

Can rubber bands crack?

Cameron looks away.

He goes to sleep and dreams about his girlfriend, okay?

* * *

><p>Damian is right.<p>

Lindsay almost faints, swooning with a perfect flip of her long hair, and if Alex was still here there is no doubt he would have. But he isn't because Damian dug his fingernails into Cameron's shirt and didn't let him go.

Because that's what friends do for each other.

Damian smirks at him, eyebrows wiggling in that _told-you-so_ way, and Cameron completely forgets for a sweetly savored moment who he is supposed to be and just smiles back. It's simple. Easy.

He hasn't heard Damian laugh in way too long.

It loosens something. Like oxygen when he didn't know he was holding his breath.

Chris Colfer stands tall and proud before them with his gelled hair and leather pants.

"Being a good actor is about finding something inside of you that relates to what you're suppose to portray. You're not attracted to your fellow actor? Think of your very first crush. Channel that feeling."

He pauses dramatically, enjoying the theatrics.

"Now… _impress me_."

Colfer grins at them to soften the command.

They jump out of their seats, drawn to the piano. Cameron goes to the opposite side that Damian does, trying to space the group out more evenly. He thinks of details like that sometimes, you know.

The song opens and Lindsay advances on Damian, singing at him full force, all seductive, long eyelashes fluttering.

_Sexuality was last week_, he thinks, a bit bitterly.

It's just habit now, the jealousy.

Damian gives her one of his charming, toothy smiles. The bright white one he uses when he's pretending a little too hard.

Not that Cameron is really watching them. Or anything.

Especially when it's Damian's turn. Especially when Damian looks past, over Lindsay's half-closed eyes, and stares directly at him and _sings_.

"Oh, I realize that it's hard to take courage."

And, god, Damian's not allowed to look at him like that. To take these words and make them mean something that never happened. That never will.

"In a world full of people you can feel so small."

He's not allowed to look so raw and vulnerable like he means it. Like what never happened between them could work. Like maybe these snatched in-between moments could string together into a story, one with a happy ending.

Never. It can't.

And yet, Damian must be a better liar than him because Cameron can't turn away, even when the other boy finishes and it's his turn to pretend.

Instead, he doesn't.

"Show me a smile then," He sings, begs, "Don't be unhappy."

There's more. Lyrics tossed back and forth like a conversation, the one that they can't actually have out loud, words that could never make it past trembling lips otherwise. They try their best to look away from each other, then don't.

It's a strange little dance they do around the piano; each step matching the other so that they end almost exactly the way they started. Opposite sides, grinning.

But this time it's believable.

"Really, all of you did amazingly," Colfer's face is bright and earnest, "But Damian… it felt like you pouring your soul into that song. You win."

Damian's face lights up, beaming with real surprise and delight.

He's the only one who's surprised.

"And this week you're going to be singing duets again."

The five of them glance around uncertainly, unsure of how this will play out. Avoiding eye-contact, they mentally pray for their partners, faces set with concentration. Cameron crosses his fingers and tries not to think about it.

He gives himself points for effort.

"Damian, since you're the winner, you get to pick two people to work with."

He has barely finished his sentence before Damian blurts—

"Cameron. I pick Cameron."

Cameron grins back nonchalantly and high-fives Damian. Their hands linger just a second longer than is absolutely necessary. Cameron wonders if his relaxed smile passes the test.

It feels too tight, wanting to burst at the seams.

There's a pause as Damian realizes that he has to pick someone else. He glances between Hannah and Lindsay awkwardly, both of whom straighten eagerly.

Cameron tries not to glare too obviously at Lindsay, at her perfect lipstick, the long tumbling curls. He doesn't feel threatened by her, why would he? He just doesn't want her surprising him with another one of her infamous kisses.

Or surprising Damian.

No, he doesn't have possession issues.

Yes, he feels perfectly all right.

Damian turns to Hannah, and the discontent rolling around in his stomach is probably just hunger anyway.

"Do-"

"Sure."

Cameron faked calm better.

* * *

><p>"Hey baby."<p>

He clutches the phone and tries to ignore the camera moving in his direction. Tries to ignore the Irish boy watching him from across the room. Tries really hard to ignore the hand resting on Lindsay's lower back.

If he concentrates really hard he can convince himself he actually care.

They must smell weakness; the lens zooms on his face.

Across the room, off-screen, Damian leans in close and whispers something in Lindsay's ear with those curving lips of his. She blushes. Cameron grips the phone harder and keeps his smile firmly in place.

He can do this, damn it.

Damian, still leaning forward, mouth still too close to Lindsay's earlobe, glances sideways. A clash of mischievous blue and jealous brown.

"Cameron? Hello, are you still there?"

Locked stares across the room. His girlfriend's soft voice unusually sharp with annoyance. Cameron tries, really, but he can't look away.

"Well, I know you have to practice and rest your voice so I won't keep you, Cammy. We're so proud of you. I love you."

"Yeah. Same."

Don't believe him?

Well, blame it on Damian. His hand slips a little lower, no longer so innocent; eyes on Cameron.

A challenge.

Well, like he said, _two can play the game_.

* * *

><p>"Hey Hannah."<p>

She looks up from her magazine, surprised. He can't quite read the title and she tucks it away quickly before he can get more then a quick look but the bold headline reads _New Weight Watching Secrets!_

Instantly, he feels guilty. He's kind of been an asshole.

"Cameron. Hey."

Cameron grimaces at the lack of enthusiasm in her voice. Well, it's not like it's undeserved.

"I-Um, I just wanted to apologize for last week," he falters, he's always been bad at these things, not for lack of practice, he doesn't mean to hurt people but somehow he keeps tripping over his own tongue, "I mean, it's really not that I don't like you or anything but, well, you know I'm a little insecure with... sex things."

He smiles at her shyly. Believably.

Oh, is Damian watching? Really, he had no idea.

And they said he couldn't be an actor.

Hannah blushes and immediately tries to comfort him. She deflects her pleased awkwardness with a terrible Australian accent, babbling about kolas and zookeepers. His accent is even worse, more Irish then Australian anyway, and offers her his arm with a swooping bow to escort her to dinner.

Brown and blue clash on the way out.

His hand dips a little lower; an answer, maybe.

* * *

><p>Their song is 'Mr. Brightside'.<p>

Chris gets right to it.

"Basically you—"

He points at Damian.

"And you—"

He points at Cameron.

"—are going to take turns singing the verses."

He turns to Hannah, "And you'll be joining them on the chorus to harmonize. Mostly you'll be acting. The guys will alternate between being your boyfriend and the person you're cheating with."

Chris hands one copy to Hannah and one to Cameron, grinning sheepishly.

"Sorry guys, you'll have to share. Copy machine was being a bitch this morning."

Cameron beats Hannah to the punch.

"That's okay. Damian can share with me."

Chris assigns them their verses. They both have to press together, heads bent low and close to each other over the paper.

The font is damn small.

Really.

* * *

><p>The breakfast before is always a hyper-tense affair.<p>

Sometimes they all talk over each other, babbling uncontrollably, sometimes they are stiffly silent, panicking inside and trying their best to remember their upcoming lines. The conversation jumps abruptly from one topic to another as they try to distract themselves.

"So how's your girlfriend doing?"

"Yeah, Lisa, right?"

The first from Samuel who means well. The second from Lindsay, who he thinks, doesn't. He swallows wrong and coughs, pounding against his chest.

It pounds back.

"Um, yeah. She's fine."

Lindsay has that look in her eye again, the scary gleam. The one that says she's about to start talking and you're going to be stuck for the next hour. Like a pit bull. Minus the dog saliva.

"I think your relationship is just the cutest thing," her voice is insincere and he wonders what kind of game she is playing, "How faithful you are and everything, you know, it's just so hard to find nowadays."

"That special bond that transcends sex and all that physical stuff that most guys are only interested in," she smiles sweetly, "Don't you think it's great, Damian?"

Damian startled at the sound of his name, cereal bowl threatening to spill at he turns toward her.

"Aye?"

Cameron has a bad feeling about this. Why can't she just leave well enough alone?

Starting with Damian.

"Don't you think it's adorable how Cameron is in love with his girlfriend?"

That damn word and all its implications. And suddenly the rubber band is stretched to breaking point again.

God, he does not need this now.

Damian turns towards him, slowly. Deliberately.

Back facing the rest of their fellow contestants. And it's like everyone else just fades; the world narrows. All that matters is Damian and the carefully guarded look on his face that Cameron hates just as much as the sadness.

"You think Cameron's in love?"

Directed at Lindsay. Meant for him. Not so much a question as a statement, another challenge.

Lindsay from the background:

"Of course. Why else would he be so freaked out by us girls?"

Damian quirks an eyebrow, the curve of it saying a hundred wordless things. Cameron has to actually grip the counter he's leaning against to stop himself from doing something drastic. And irreversible.

Because there are people here. No matter how irrelevant.

Not that he would, if they were alone. He's just saying.

"So…"

A heavy pause. He wonders if, like a rubber band, the breaking of tension will rebound. Snap back.

"…do you love her?"

For a moment, Cameron is furious at Damian.

Doesn't he understand? He can't just tell the truth. He can't just stop pretending because there was once someone who asked him to, eyes wide and blue. The kind of blue that eyes are sometimes, and so terribly hopeful.

"Yes, I love her. I plan on marrying her someday."

(He grips the counter but the damage is irreversible anyway.)


End file.
